


A Little Touch of Magic

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Series: A Gathering of Tales [1]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, M/M, Silly, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: Once upon a time, there was magnificent kingdom full of happy beautiful people, who went about their joyous days full of song and mirth. This is not a story about those people. This is a tale about a young engineer named Ral. Bound to the most dangerous and dirtiest tasks his workshop has to offer, he resigns himself to an inescapable fate of lonely drudgery.Yet, when a grand invitation arrives at the workshop, he is suddenly presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. Can one ball change his fortunes? Does this servant dare to dream?Ral/Tomik Cinderella AU





	1. Wishes and Dreams

A long time ago in a kingdom far far away, sat a grand castle with spires so tall, they could be seen gleaming on the horizon for miles around. From the lush gardens surrounding the castle, to the glittering waves of the sea, sprawled a city of immense wealth and beauty. Houses with vibrant window boxes lined the streets, painted with all colours of the rainbow. Each morning, merchants and their smiling families opened their shutters to greet the new day, and share cries of greeting with the happy fruit sellers, pushing their picture-perfect carts through the streets below. Birds sang, squirrels scampered through the trees and dogs danced merrily with their owners in the marketplace. Well-dressed families played in the perfect weather, lovers kissed over romantic picnics, perfect afternoons were wiled away in the city’s many gorgeous parks. As night fell, glowing lanterns lit throughout the city like bobbing stars, creating the perfect atmosphere for moonlit dances, musical soirees and plenty of forbidden romance. All was bright and beautiful.

Provided you had the money to live the fairytale life.

For behind every picnicking family, a host of servants, cooks and maids prepared their meals, stocked their baskets, and washed the grass stains out their clothing when they returned. Behind each joyous merchant was a fleet of labourers, worked ragged, too plain to wander freely about the street. And behind every display of automated lanterns, singing furniture and magical carriages, were a team of hardworking grease-faced engineers, who worked tirelessly to provide the fantastical environment their betters had become so accustomed too.

Yet not all engineers are allowed to be equal. And so we find ourselves with the hero of our tale. Not a knight in shining armour, or a dewy-eyed princess waiting for her one true love. But with a young man, waist-deep in the belly of a smoking machine. Crackles of energy bounced harmlessly off his skin but sizzled their way through his ragged clothing. Head dizzy with smoke and chemical fumes, he thumped at his mask, trying to get the filters back into alignment, cursing the outdated tech and shoddy workmanship. Only the worst for the youngest and most disposable member of the crew. Ral growled a few curses into his mask as he rooted round searing hot pipework, trying to find the source of the chemical leak. Always the last out of the workshop and the first one to start in the morning. It was only logical, the others told him. Why did the kid with no family or friends need to leave work? Why did the kid, who literally worked here to survive, need breaks at all? He was lucky to have somewhere to sleep, enough food to get by, a place to bathe and a corner to call his own. What else did he need in life? Sure, all the other workers had annual leave, salaries, pensions, rights, you name it. They were allowed to get sick. They were allowed to slack off drinking tea and talking about whatever gossip was passing through the city . But no! Not Ral! Not the charity case who got given all the shitty gear in the hopes he’d one day suffocate! Not the orphan who was supposed to be grateful for life sleeping on hard concrete and living off kitchen scraps.

Also he wasn’t a kid! He was the youngest by at least a decade, but he was twenty-six years old damn it! He did more work in a week than those tyrants did in a month! This place would fall apart without him! The boilers would blow, the pipes would rust over, hell, they would probably all die of disease from unwashed crockery before that happened! Ral knew he was essential. He knew no one understood the ins and outs of this place better than him. If he could, he’d abandon this lot to their grimy gas-explosion filled fate. Yet, he couldn’t. He needed to live. He needed to eat. A concrete corner was far better than wherever the city guard swept away the beggars and vagrants, away from the eyes of the ‘perfect’ citizenry.

It hadn’t always been like this. Looking back on his teenage years was like looking back on a previous life. He’d holed up in an old warehouse belonging to a carriage repair business, run entirely by teens like him. As long as you could fix a wheel, bang some nails together, add a fresh coat of paint, you were welcome. They always had a warm fire going, plenty of blankets, mattresses even, and there was always someone about who was ready for a laugh. Ral sighed into his mask and instantly started hacking up smoke. That warehouse had been a god damn paradise. Plenty of work, plenty of food, plenty of drink when they got their moonshine still up and going. They threw parties. He’d drank and he’d danced and he’d made out with a couple of cute guys he’d never seen again. Problem was, the whole operation of ‘living in a warehouse’ was completely illegal. They’d had to run for their lives and now, here he was. Warmed only by the dangerous machinery they stuck him in. No friends, no moonshine, no mattress, no nothing. Just a face full of grease and lungs full of smoke.

From outside the room, he heard a door slam shut. That would be the owner, leaving and locking up behind him. He scrambled out of the machine’s inner-workings, oil dripping from his sleeves, bits of overall falling limply to the ground. As he made his way out of the main workshop, he pulled off his shitty second, third, if not _fifth_ -hand gauntlets, depositing them on a shelf to let them dry off before he set them to recharge. The workshop showers were filthy, but they were a much-needed relief after baking his head and torso in a hot and sticky furnace. He considered pre-emptively cleaning them, before someone kicked him into doing so. However, that would just be making their lives easier. If they wanted things cleaned, they first had to admit they’d left them dirty. Scrubbing himself clean, Ral tried to salvage what was left of his clothing, washing that with him under the sporadic downpour. He didn’t want to have to beg for a new shirt. There were only so many times he could get away with stealing from lost property. He sighed as he pulled his still-damp trousers back on and strode, semi-clothed into the staff common area.

What was on the menu today? Dry toast and milk meant for tea. Delightful. Ral lay his sopping wet shirt over one chair before slumping into another. There was a pile of newspapers and fliers heaped on top of the table. He idly flicked through pieces of parchment advertising new taverns, travelling fayres and mercenaries for hire. He was about to pick up a paper and read some dull looking story about harvests, when suddenly his attention was snatched away by a rather shiny looking envelope. It stood out like a peacock amongst chickens, chucked haphazardly onto the pile. Glossy black in colour, the thick parchment had been decorated in swirling gold filigree around every edge. The seal, ruby red with rich thick wax displayed a crest that any citizen should recognise anywhere. Not that he’d held real money in a while, but this heraldry was stamped across every coin, every public park or fountain, even embroidered into the banners that fluttered high and proud above the city streets. The royal emblem. What the hell was it doing on the post?

He gently pried off the wax seal which split through the centre as if it had been perfectly designed that way. Inside was another thick piece of parchment with a matching gold ornate trim. Ral frowned as he unfolded the letter. The royal palace wouldn’t write to this old place, what was going on?

**Dearest Citizens,**

**A Great and Most Wondrous Occasion is Amongst Us!**

**Upon the eve of His Royal Highness’ twenty-sixth anniversary, the King and Queen of our Illustrious Kingdom shall be opening their Splendorous Halls to the public for a Grand Ball.**

**All eligible young bachelors and bachelorettes are invited to attend this most exceptional of occasions. Attendees will be afforded the Extraordinary Opportunity to meet with His Royal Highness in anticipation of him choosing a partner for Blessed Matrimony.**

**Entry to the Grand Ball commences at six o clock in the evening, with a presentation of guests to His Royal Highness, followed by a Majestic Banquet that will delight all your senses!”**

Ral’s stomach growled at the idea of a banquet. He checked the date at the bottom of the invitation and his heart leapt at the sight. Two days! This ball was happening in two days and the palace was only an hour’s walk from here. He was an eligible young bachelor! Hell, he and the prince were the same age! Still, he didn’t really like the idea of this odd match-making. You couldn’t force someone to choose a life partner there and then. Whatever royal wedding this caused was probably going to be followed by a royal divorce, or at least a royal tragic accident. To hell with that, Ral wasn’t interested in dubious relations. This place was going to have free food! A whole banquet’s worth! He could eat his fill and smuggle some home in a bag! All he needed to do was show up looking reasonably respectable, bearing this invitation, and the most majestic feast of all would await!

They would have everything. Roast chicken, roast beef, roast lamb, maybe even fancy meats like goose or pheasant or venison! And all the trimmings! Hot roast veggies, potatoes, tiny little sausages wrapped in bacon, Yorkshire puddings… Desserts! Imagine the desserts! Cakes and iced buns, whipped cream trifles and chocolate treats! Oh gods, he’d be insane to miss this! Finally, finally he could get a hot meal and eat as much as he wanted! Fill his pockets with appetisers and snacks like honey roasted nuts and tiny bits of toast. He would be full! It had been so long since he’d felt full. Hell, if he wasn’t there to impress the prince, he could eat and drink himself silly! If this was a feast there was bound to be booze on tap! Good booze too, not the throat-searing stuff they got out of the still back when he was teenager. 

It was decided.

Ral Zarek was going to the ball.

Over the following day, he planned his great adventure. He went through the workshop’s lost property locker for anything that would look respectable for a royal ball. It was hard going, but he found a pair of black trousers that would probably stay on if he used some cable as a belt, and a shirt that would definitely improve with a wash. The best find, something that he’d in fact been eyeing for some time, was a very fancy looking coat. He had no idea why it had been left here, but the long leather coat had been embellished with a fine black belt and collar, brassy buttons, and a general air of class completely unbefitting of this building. If he was going to look like he even vaguely fit in at a ball he was going to need that coat. Also, it had all sorts of pockets he could fill with food.

When the day of the ball arrived, he had to act fast. There was an hour long walk to the castle, but luckily most of the engineers had left by four. Those that stayed later were the higher ups, usually ensconced in their offices, doing the less dangerous work. As soon as the last low-rung employee wheezed his way out of the building, Ral stuck his head out from underneath the industrial-sized confetti canon he’d been working on. City residents loved a thematic sky full of streamers whenever anything remotely triumphant happened, and thus canons like these were employed throughout the city. Unfortunately, birds like to nest in them, and the all excrement really messed with the firing systems. Today, Ral had been on bird shit scrubbing duty. Nothing but the best jobs for the littlest indentured worker!

As soon as he was alone, he sprinted for the showers. Time to get respectable! Scrubbing his hair with soap to try and get the bird waste out, he started internally chanting _Feast, Feast, Feast_ , accompanied by growls from his stomach. Rubbing his hands together to create enough static, he both dried and straightened his hair with one sweep of his hands. Next, he buttoned and tied all the ‘borrowed’ clothing into place, smoothing out the folds and idly sniffing at his own armpit – hoping the coat didn’t smell too much like must. He located a few small bags that had previously held nails, stuffing them into the coat pockets, ready for his great snack heist. His stomach gurgled painfully, reminding him that he wasn’t really in a fit state to walk multiple miles across town. He told his stomach to shut it. Didn’t it know that the meal of all meals was waiting for them at the other side? There was no time to complain! This was his moment! His chance! His fate! There was going to be so much _food!_

He stretched a little, rolling back his shoulders as he psyched himself up for the journey ahead. Step One: Walk. Step Two: Food. Step Three: Profit. It couldn’t be any easier! He bounced a little on the spot before making a beeline for the exit. He was almost at the steel doors when suddenly a large shadow blotted out the light ahead. Ral froze. One shadow turned into three shadows, three large men in stained suits, all of whom were technically his bosses. All of whom were staring straight at him.

“Well, well, well,” said the frontmost brute, “What have we got here? Look who got out of the boiler room!”

He was fucked.

-

A few miles away, Prince Tomik Vrona was staring at himself in a collection of gilt full-length mirrors. In an hour and a half’s time, his family home would be filled to the brim with strangers, many of whom would be doing their best to take his hand and never let go. The prospect was, admittedly, quite frightening. The thought of that much attention focused solely on him had been giving him nightmares for weeks. His parents, bless them, only had good intentions at heart. They wanted their kingdom’s legacy, and their family line, to remain strong and prosper. They wanted to make the process as easy and un-stressful as possible. So, instead of forcing Tomik to venture outside of the family home, they’d brought all the eligible young men to him. They meant well. However, Tomik couldn’t help but feel that bringing an entire city’s worth of hungry bachelors into his safe-space was far more stressful than making him travel to them individually. Could love really blossom under such forced circumstances? The saying went that there were plenty more fish in the sea. However, his parents had brought him the entire ocean. He turned to inspect his reflections, tightening the cords on the back of his robes a little further, increasing how they clung to his body and thus revealed his shape a little better. The white outfit was perfect for an innocent groom to be. However, his requested addition of the corset-style lacing made the whole ensemble substantially less modest.

His parents meant well, but Tomik had his own plans in mind. He rarely went out casually into public, preferring his studies and his books. That meant the only people who would even vaguely know what he looked like, would be the guards and a select few members of aristocracy. He’d already evaluated his options there and found them lacking. Now he had a plethora of choices. He had been invited to plenty of balls and parties over the years, ever since he’d come of age. However, his parents were very protective over their only child and quailed at the rumours of the decadent and scandalous activities that went on in other castles. Tomik had heard the details too. From nobles who visited the court, from his penpal Prince Beleren in the neighbouring kingdom, from the whispered rumours about who had done what with whom. The court loved to gossip about the naughty activities the aristocracy indulged in behind closed doors. Quite frankly, he could do with something naughty right now. Tomik turned this way and that, making sure he was perfect from every possible angle.

He was a man on a mission. A mission for the greatest birthday present he could ever give himself. Tonight, Prince Tomik of House Vrona, twenty-six years old, looking better than he’d ever done in his life, was going to _get_ _laid_. That’s what balls were for right? Once the necessary formalities were over, you got some food, had a few drinks, danced a bit, and then snuck away with your partner to the nearest closet. That wasn’t just what the nobles told him. He’d read all about it in his romance novels. If all the gentlemen in the city were here, then surely he’d find one of them who was both incredibly handsome, and willing to sneak off to more private quarters with him. Look at him! Ok, maybe he didn’t find himself particularly attractive, but someone out there would! He had gone to all this effort to look absolutely desirable. Fresh shave, fresh haircut, new tailored robes, new sandals. He’d even waxed his legs and that had been unnecessarily painful! Not that anyone could see his legs beneath the robes, but he had high hopes that someone would see them before the night was done.

With one final twirl, he crossed his dressing room and slumped into one of the many soft armchairs positioned about the space. His parents were going to send a guard to fetch him when all the preparations were ready. They were treating this like the worst-kept surprise birthday party in existence. He hadn’t been allowed to do anything so far. He hadn’t even been allowed to help. With a sigh, he picked up his recently-bought copy of “ _Stepping Out: Turning Heads at Your First Ball_ ”, and lay back amongst the cushions. He’d researched the matter thoroughly over the last few weeks. He’d even put aside his favourite law books in favour of guides about grace and social etiquette. He had to do something, even if his parents wouldn’t let him contribute. He just had to make sure he was perfect when the day arrived. He’d brushed up on his manners and written out a list of potential conversation starters he planned to carry about in his pocket. He’d learnt over the years that most people weren’t interested in fascinating loopholes in city law, so he had to come up with something a bit more…bland. Like the weather. All the books said people loved to talk about the weather.

With another sigh, he stared out the window, over at the glittering lights of the city beyond. He could hear the music starting downstairs. The smell of delicious dishes being prepared in the kitchens. Guards patrolled the corridor outside, checking every single nook and cranny for potential security hazards. He could try to join them, but as soon as his parents found out he would be ferried back into his room, to sit here, looking forlorn.

So, there truly was nothing he could do.

Nothing he could do but wait.


	2. Raindrops and Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will our hero do now? What can he do when faced with such impossible odds? His dreams in tatters, his body black and blue, it appears he was foolish to ever wish to attend such a magnificent ball. His prospects bleak, it appears what ever luck he had has certainly run out.
> 
> What Ral needs is a little touch of magic.

It had been decided

Ral Zarek was not going to the ball.

He hurt everywhere. His head span, his face throbbing with pain as he collapsed onto the floor of the staffroom. Trembling from head to toe, he felt the last of his strength leave him as one of his arms gave up, shaking from the pummelling it had just received. He had always known he was a joke to those men. Treated worse than their dogs, their furniture. Even their shoes, now covered in his blood, were treated better than the living breathing person they had bound to their service. Bile rose into his mouth and he spat before he gagged on the taste. One eye closed in agony, he was sure he’d have the mother of all black eyes come tomorrow. For some reason, the idea of him sneaking out to go to a ball was so hilarious, they just had to ‘knock some sense’ into him. Bastards. He’d just wanted a good meal. He just wanted some fun – a few drinks, warm food in his stomach, some snacks to take home later. Apparently, that was too much to ask! He groaned into the concrete floor as what remained of the overlarge trousers, slipped over his hips, trailing useless about his thighs. Every bit of him ached. Three forty-something year old men, built like houses, against one scrawny starving young man. To his credit, he’d tried to defend himself. He’d had a lot practice, covering his vital organs, holding his arms where it mattered. Yet he couldn’t cover himself from all sides.

For a few brief hours, he’d dared to hope. He’d had a dream, a dream he thought he’d be able to make into reality. Some would surely scoff at his meagre ambitions. Most people dreamed of adventures, romance, discovering new things about the world. All he wanted was dinner. He was so hungry. Pulling himself up, despite the protests of his knees, he crossed over to the cabinet where the bread and milk were kept. No milk remained, but there was a little bread. He took the rest of it, too famished to care about the consequences. They’d already beaten him black and blue, what were they going to do, finish him off? As his legs screamed at him to stop, he crossed back into the workshop and up a ladder that took him to the roof-hatch. Pulling himself up and out, he was free to slump on the mossy tiles – a little more comfortable than the concrete below.

“What was I thinking?” he groaned, leaning against the pipe that drew out most of the workshop’s fumes. What had he expected? Why had he even tried to fool himself that he’d get to go to this stupid ball? He shed the remains of what had once been a perfectly good coat and used the meagre fabric to try and patch up some of the bloodier wounds. One of his eyes had almost welded itself shut at the weight of its swelling. He blinked blearily out over the rooftops, up at the star-strewn sky. Somewhere, in the distance, a river of flickering light marked a procession of carriages making their way to the royal palace. The ball would be starting soon. He couldn’t make it there even if he had wanted to. He was a fool to have wanted to. An absolute idiot for thinking life could get any better than this.

He fixed his unclosed eye on the silvery moon, flinching a little as a spasm of pain coursed through his back. Overhead, a shooting star leapt and tumbled through the night sky. Somewhere out there, someone was probably making a wish. A wish thatthey’d get their happily ever after. Unlike him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded of the shooting star, “I’m miserable! At least rain or something!”

On cue, thunder rumbled overhead and it started to pour. Ral grumbled something about good timing before leaning against the exhaust vents, wrapping the shreds of his clothing about himself. His stomach gurgled at him as he watched the slow procession of lights trundle off, before staring up at the ever-present spires, illuminated gold in the distance. Even through the oncoming storm, he could see flecks of light descend from the heavens, interrupting his pathetic fallacy. He made no effort to shelter himself from the rain, letting it wash the blood and dirt off his battered skin. Stars fell like raindrops in the distance. He watched a particularly bright one disappear over the horizon. He wasn’t the sort of person who wished on stars. That was all superstitious nonsense that parents told their children so they didn’t actually have to fulfil their children’s expectations. Wish upon a star and it might happen. Dreams come true if you believe! It was all just a lazy way to get out of actually helping people. He could wish away and no one would ever help him.

Dazed and miserable, he focused what was left of his vision on the brightest star visible through the rainclouds.

“I wish,” he grumbled, “I wish for…for a feast. For the biggest feast in the entire world. With all the foods I like, and I’m allowed to eat as much of it as I want. And-and then I want a beer. And a warm bed with a mattress, and pillows, and hell, I want _all_ the pillows. I want to _drown_ in pillows. And I want breakfast in bed the next day with eggs and bacon and sausages. I wish I could get up and have a wardrobe full of clothes that all fit. And if anyone thumped me, I wish they’d all just go to jail. Or die, or something. Can you do that star?”

He raised his voice at the tiny light so many miles away.

“Can you do anything you stupid star? Why do you even exist? What have you ever done for anyone? What have you ever done for me? You know what? I wish there were no more stars! Hear that! I wish you didn’t exist! Grand lot of use you are to anyone you good-for-nothing star!”

He slumped onto his side, hitting the tiles with a wet thud. Glaring up at the offensive light, he started to wonder if the light was getting bigger, or whether he really was concussed. The light was growing. The star was getting more intense every second, burning bigger and brighter, it was almost as if it was getting closer.

“Fuck off,” Ral told the star, “I’m sad.”

It didn’t listen. He could almost feel the heat now. The very air was warmer. The rain began to evaporate before it hit the ground. Ral weakly stirred, trying to push himself backwards but hit the vent with a metallic clang. Just what he needed, to be murdered by a shooting star! What were the chances of that! Like this day could get any worse!

He was about to accept his fiery star-based demise when suddenly he saw something red in the flames. It came at him, a ball of searing light, before suddenly, the star stretched its wings.

Ral threw a hand over his eyes as the light turned crimson, stretching and contorting into a huge pair of leathery wings. Then a body formed between those wings, bigger than a house, bigger than this entire rooftop, it was kept aloft by the great sweeps of its bat-like limbs. He blinked and suddenly the body had a neck, and face, unfurling from the scaly underbelly, ringed in a grand frill like a noble-lady’s ruff. Ral’s mouth fell open as an immense scarlet dragon landed on the edge of the rooftop, sending tiles crashing and cascading to the ground. It perched cat-like, creating a bridge of crimson scales between this building and the next. Next door’s chimney was a ruin as it settled down, staring at Ral with a face larger than the boiler downstairs. He’d be barely a mouthful to this thing!

“ **You are correct.** ”

Ral shuddered as a voice passed not through the air around them, but through his mind. He grasped his already aching head as shock settled over him, swiftly turning into panic.

“ **There is no need to be alarmed** ,” said the dragon, telepathically, “ **I am not here to eat you. That would be most counterproductive. On the contrary, I am here to fulfil my role as your Faerie God Dragon.”**

Faerie God Dragon? He knew what all those words meant separately. Yet string them together and the dragon might as well be speaking another language. Ral bit back tears as his head throbbed in agony.

**“To prove my good intent, I will fix that for you.”**

The dragon extended one claw towards him. Ral tried to back away, expecting to be skewered, but the very tip of the large talon only lightly tapped upon his shoulder. Suddenly, all of Ral’s pain was gone. Every bruise vanished, every ache disappeared. Blood no longer dripped down his face and suddenly he had two working eyes. He stared up at the dragon, his mouth agape in shock as he gingerly sat up to take in the gigantic creature.

 **“A Faerie God Dragon,”** the dragon continued, “ **Is a dragon who rules over many fairies, who worship him as a god. There is no such thing as ‘a’ faerie god dragon, there is ‘the’ Faerie God Dragon, and that is me. Niv Mizzet.”**

Right. Ok. And he needed to know this right now because?

 **“Because I am here to aid you in your time of need,”** Niv Mizzet turned to look at the great gleaming river of carriages. It was more like a stream now, most of the vehicles already past the castle gates.

**“Ral Zarek, you shall go to the ball.”**

Ral stared up at him. The dragon’s grandiose tone told him he should probably be more impressed by that. However, hadn’t he just decided that going to the ball was impossible? Look at him! He was cold, tired, absolutely famished, and he had no respectable clothes whatsoever. They were never going to let him in, even if he did manage the miles of walk to get there.

 **“You are not thinking big enough,”** said Niv Mizzet, “ **I am a dragon. The Dragon. There is no such thing as impossible to the likes of me. I may accomplish anything I so choose. All it takes is a little touch of magic.”**

Ral had already got his hopes up once today. He wasn’t stupid enough to do so again.

 **“Look,”** said Niv Mizzet, **“Do you want to go to this ball or not?”**

He mostly wanted a hot meal. However, the hot meal would be especially good if he got it from the ball.

“ **Good enough,”** the dragon concluded. He arched his back like a cat and let out a roar that crackled with sparks of energy. Ral jumped so hard, he lost his grip on the wet tiles and slipped back onto his side. The rain abruptly stopped. The shooting stars hovered in the sky before promptly vanishing. Ral blinked and suddenly the sky was filled not with stars, but with many glittering faeries, all decked out in reds and blues, bearing bits of machinery far too big for them to hold by themselves. Before he could do so much as gasp, they were upon him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, hoisting him up onto his feet by the arms, like a puppet on many glimmering strings. In a panic, he tried to swat them away as his toes lifted off the ground. However, with two dozen faeries on each arm, he could barely move to brush them off. Instead he opted to kick, swearing at the creatures who seemed to content to strip him on the rooftop where anyone could see him!

“ **This will be a lot easier if you do not fight them** ,” sighed the dragon. He spoke as if he was dealing with an idiot.

“That faerie has a knife!” Ral exclaimed, as a gleaming blade narrowly missed his throat.

 **“It is what you humans call a shaving razor** ,” said the dragon, “ **Holding still minimises the chance you will get hurt.”**

Sensing his imminent danger, Ral did indeed stay still and let the faerie shave him. Now there was one right in front of his face, he could see that the faeries were wearing minute sets of lab gear – including tiny safety goggles. That was kind of adorable. They’d be a lot cuter however if they didn’t keep wrenching him about. Niv Mizzet began to tap his claws against the rooftop – like a human would drum their fingers whilst bored. He seemed to be waiting for the faeries to finish, but Ral wasn’t done complaining yet.

“Why am I naked?!”

Niv Mizzet telepathically sighed. A spark of lightning later and a fresh wave of faeries appeared, holding an array of garments in deep reds and blues. Ral didn’t want to know how the dragon knew what size underwear he wore, but everything they put on him fit perfectly. There was an extraordinary amount of buttons, ties and laces, from the knee-length leather boots to the frilly scarlet cravat, everything was fiddly and lacy and utterly beyond anything he’d ever worn in his life. He teetered a little on two inches of heel as his faerie captors put him back down on the ground. The first lot of faeries returned to straighten out his hair, adjust his collar and attach a solitary white flower to his button hole. Ral winced as he felt how tight his new breeches were, stretching a little and wondering if it was too risky to bend over to look at his boots. Instead he settled for staring at himself in the reflective surface of the exhaust vent.

He looked like a nobleman! Look at all these layers! A deep blue shirt was just visible under a burgundy silk waistcoat and red lace cravat. Over the top of those, bound tight with lacing and brass button after button was an even darker blue tailcoat, with red silk accents on the sleeves and collar. He had gold cufflinks shaped like crescent moons pinned into each shirt sleeve, and lace protruded from beneath the coat sleeves, giving the ensemble a luxurious yet slightly foppish air. His waist-high trousers were made of the same fabric as the tail-coat, with the same brass buttons displayed about his midriff. Rich leather boots extended just over his knees, laced up tight around his legs to accent their shape in a way they had never been accented before. The boots had large brass buckles for no reason other than to look fancy. Ral peered at his own face, which had never been cleaner in living memory. He’d been given an even shave so his stubble looked stylish rather than neglected. His hair had been combed until unbelievably soft, and his premature greys had fallen perfectly symmetrical about his face. The blue in the coat brought out the blue in his eyes. If he couldn’t feel how incredibly tight all this clothing was, he would have thought he was dreaming.

“You are missing something,” Niv Mizzet stated. Six faeries, three to a item, suddenly whizzed up over the rooftop. In their hands were a pair of gleaming gauntlets. Ral couldn’t but gape all over again, as the elegant pair of mizzium gauntlets were presented before him, ready for him to slide his hands right in.

“What are these for?” he asked, noting how the detailing on the gauntlets matched his clothing perfectly.

“I’m not doing any engineering at the ball am I?”

Niv Mizzet rolled his eyes.

**“No. These are not for artifice. These are social gauntlets, designed for occasions such as this. You will have plenty of time to inspect their functionality in the carriage.”**

Social gauntlets? Wait, what carriage?

Niv Mizzet pointed downwards. Ral leaned over the side of the rooftop and sure enough, below him was a gleaming brass-coloured carriage. Plated in yet more mizzium, it wasn’t led by horses, but by two sparking elementals shaped roughly like horses, sizzling and stamping, impatient to set off. Driving the carriage was a being of half-fire and half-ice. Ral had only heard about these. Beings made of contrasting elements, miracles of magic and artifice. Suddenly, Ral was swarmed by faeries again, seizing him by the arms and pushing him towards the building’s edge.

“Wait! There’s a ladder, I can just climb down!”

 **“Not dressed like that you won’t,”** Niv Mizzet commented, “ **The ball has already started. You must get going. There is an invitation waiting for you in the carriage. Is there anything else you require?”**

He really just wanted something to eat

**“There will be snacks in the carriage, but not enough to ruin your appetite.”**

Perfect!

Arms aloft in an odd T-shaped pose, Ral let himself be elegantly glided down to street level. The Weird driver opened the door to let him in, revealing a plush interior, complete with snacks and mini bar. On the seat was a familiar black envelope containing the invitation for all eligible bachelors and bachelorettes.

 **“One last thing,”** stated Niv Mizzet, as the carriage door closed behind Ral and the driver took their place at the front.

**“You must return to this place by the time the clock strikes midnight.”**

Why?

“ **Because I say so,”** said Niv Mizzet, “ **At that time the faeries’ magic will wear off, and you will have no gauntlets, no carriage, no clothes, and then you will truly complain about your own nudity.”**

Fair enough. Ral had one more question. It was very kind of the Fairy God Dragon to do all this. However Ral wasn’t the sort who was used to getting charity handouts, especially not one as grand as this. What was he hoping to get in return? Why was he doing this?

 **“You will see** ,” said the dragon, “ **Now, go! Enjoy your ball! And Feast!”**

\---

Prince Tomik was feeling overwhelmed.

No, overwhelmed didn’t quite cut it. He was feeling utterly and totally lost in front of a sea of people who were all interested in one thing – him. The greeting part had been ok. He’d stood with his parents floating protectively behind him, ghostly hands on his shoulders as guest after guest paraded past them, bowing and curtesying – a few of them daring to wink or flutter their eyelashes at him as they passed. Tomik had no idea why so many women were here, and why they all seemed to have got their hopes up. His parents knew he was gay. They had accepted that many years ago. So why had they invited every young man _and woman_ here? Were they afraid of looking biased? He was biased! Hopefully some of these women could find love elsewhere whilst they were here. As far as he could tell, his parents had created the biggest ever match-making event in the history of the kingdom. He watched as men and woman mingled, sharing stories, complimenting outfits, complaining about the freak rainstorm that had drenched everyone as they’d been coming in. Thankfully Tomik hadn’t been out in that, but he understood their shock. The weather was supposed to be perfect tonight. His parents had even hired some weather mages to keep it that way. So, where had that shower come from?

Sipping at a glass of non-alcoholic fizzy elderflower, (he’d have to wait until he’d escaped his parents to be allowed anything stronger,) Tomik looked over the assembled guests. He didn’t expect to find anyone he wanted to marry here but that had never been his intention coming in. There were already scandalous things happening on the dancefloor, a few people getting a little too up close and personal during the waltz. He had come here with the intention of finding someone to get up close and personal with too. Admittedly, he was only an hour in but he hadn’t succeeded as yet. Sure he’d met some rather dashing gentlemen, all cheekbones and good upbringings and really nice backsides, however as soon as he’d got talking he’d realised his standards were higher than he realised. There were plenty of good-looking people about. However, it was going to take more than an attractive appearance to make Tomik take a leap of faith. He needed someone with an attractive personality too. Was that asking too much? Was he setting his standards too high? Admittedly, once he found someone with a great personality, he’d probably be won over by their appearance a lot easier. So, his only choice was to mingle.

And oh boy did he hate mingling.

He’d come to realise that he truly had spent too much time in the library and not enough amongst other people his age. He wished his parents had let him invite Prince Beleren to join him. He’d have all the perfect conversation starters as Jace would be able to pluck them out of their heads. Instead he had to mince about, smiling pleasantly and trying not to stammer as people complimented him and talked about the weather – there was no end of inane and thoroughly boring topics of conversation going about the hall. Ah, why had his parents done this to him! Why was he here! His need to run was battling with his need to finally see the salacious activities he’d been promised lay behind every grandiose event. His heart was beating a mile a minute. The fizzy elderflower was doing nothing to calm his nerves, in fact the sugar probably wasn’t helping. He’d prepped so well for this too! Why couldn’t this just be _easy_?

At the far end of the ballroom was a grand set of sweeping stairs. It was where all the guests had arrived from, descending to meet the royal family who stood in state below. The grand double doors were closed now. The audience portion over, they expected no more guests to arrive. Yet as Tomik nervously glanced about the hall, he couldn’t help but spot the announcer, an elderly man with a voice like a bullfrog, slip inside. He frowned, parting the crowd as he wandered back towards the stairs. One of the double doors was opening. A late arrival? Now? It had been over an hour since the event started.

“Announcing!” proclaimed the steward, his voice booming out loud and strong over the chatter.

“Master Ral Zarek!”

A solitary man stepped through the sliver in the door. Looking nervously about, he took the steps two at a time with a swish of his long tail coat after every bound. Tomik drew a little closer. His parents expected him to greet every guest, and didn’t say anything different about late arrivals. Master Ral Zarek seemed to notice he had the entire hall’s eyes on him, for he slowed his pace and began to walk down the stairs in a more sensible fashion. He walked slowly, carefully, and Tomik came to meet him at the bottom of the stairs.

_Oh hello._

Tomik felt himself blush despite his better judgement. The late arrival, this Ral Zarek... He was the most dashing example of manhood he’d met at this ball, and he’d met hundreds of men tonight. His face. His hair. His casual grace. How did he even walk in those trousers? Could he even fit underwear under there? It was a mystery and one Tomik was suddenly very interested in solving. Ral Zarek was clearly dressed to impress, all sleek blues and fine lace. As he drew closer, Tomik counted himself very impressed. The colour of his tailored jacket brought out the deep mysterious blue of his eyes. The faintest hint of stubble, that sleek and so soft-looking hair… He was just so unbelievably handsome, Tomik felt like a fainting heroine from one of his romance novels, looking at the tall dark and handsome stranger for the first of many times. He surged forward in a sweep of white robes, hand extended, hoping his blush would be endearing rather than off putting. He put on his best and friendliest smile as he approached the new arrival, heart racing.

Only for Ral Zarek to walk straight past him.

Tomik froze, hand hanging awkwardly in mid-air. He lowered it, blinking in confusion as he followed Ral Zarek’s progress across the hall. He was making a beeline for the banquet tables, not even stopping to exchange a word with anyone, not even a greeting. Tomik blinked at him again, momentarily dazzled by the star who had shone so bright before him and then all but vanished. Ral Zarek was now piling a silver plate full of food. The man was clearly hungry. Had he travelled far to get here? Was that why was so late?

Feeling strangely hollow, Tomik turned to look at all the men and women around him. They were all staring at their prince, perhaps wondering why he looked so confused and disappointed. He nodded politely at them, hoping they would go back to their dull conversations. He glanced about. His parents were nowhere in sight, so he deposited his not-alcohol on a passing tray and made his own way over to the food.

Ok, so the stranger had priorities. He could respect that. Yet, maybe, after that? Things technically were still going to plan. Get some food, have some drinks, do some dancing and then… Tomik hoped his face wouldn’t go anymore pink as he approached the banquet and collected a plate of his own.


	3. Strawberries and Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero has arrived at the ball, and what a feast awaits him! A banquet worthy of paradise! Yet there's more in store for him than a mere taste of heaven. Especially if a particular angel has any say in the matter.
> 
> (Content warning - Things get rather scandalous between our hero and his handsome prince.)

There was so much food.

_So much._

He’d died and gone to heaven.

His trousers had cut off all his bloodflow and he’d literally died and gone to heaven. Heaven mostly consisted of long tables full of food as far as the eye could see. Every dish imaginable, presented on gleaming gold and silver platters. Tiered trays, taller than him upon the table, contained all manners of delights, sweet, savoury and everything in between. It had been organised in such a fashion that he could simply glide from one end to another, passing through each course as he went. No sooner did he have a mouth full of hors d’ouerves, than he could scoot over to have his fill of smoked salmon, or prawns, or miniature fish cakes, or mussels in a delicious smelling sauce. He couldn’t even tell what some of these were but boy was he going to try all of them! The night was young and so was he! He could have dessert before his main! He could eat whatever he wanted! Chewing on a miniature beef wellington, he glided through Heaven, straight towards the dessert tables. Were those chocolate fountains? _Oh yes please!_

There was one tiny problem. A slight hiccup in paradise. Whoever had designed this feast evidently thought you could eat all these things with tiny silver forks no longer than a finger. That wouldn’t be a problem if you were, for instance, not wearing large mizzium gauntlets that were getting in the way of even seeing the fork. A good pair of gauntlets had a multitude of uses and these ones were no exception. There were enough knobs and buttons on these to keep him amused for hours. He’d examined a lot of them in the carriage and it felt like there were still more to find. On the side of the left-hand gauntlet, there was a small dial that displayed various lines he could use to start a conversation. Above that, was a nozzle that would dispense deodorant in case he got a bit sweaty in his new ensemble. A detachable probe in the palm of his hand could analyse the alcoholic contents of various beverages. There was even a handy timer on his wrist to let him know how long he had until midnight. Yet, none of those features helped him with his current quest- to fill his plate with as many of the ridiculously tiny chocolate eclairs as possible. The thick fingers of the mizzium gauntlet did nothing to help him wield one of the minuscule dessert forks. Yet if he tried to use his fingers, as soon as he picked up one of the delicate pastries, it was instantly smushed. There was now a decent amount of chocolate and whipped cream in the electronics, and he was worried what might happen if he introduced anymore.

“Here,” said a soft voice to his left. 

He turned and promptly dropped the one éclair he’d managed to skewer.

Standing before him was an angel in flowing white robes. His halo was a little unconventional, taking the form of a pair of gold-framed spectacles, and his blessing was the gift of a full-sized fork. However, Ral was certain he was in the presence of an angel nonetheless. You didn’t find anyone that jaw-droppingly cute just walking down the street. This man must have been cooked up by a deity with exceptionally good taste in handsome young men. A few inches shorter than Ral in his heels, the stranger was dressed in so much pale fabric he almost glowed. Fine gold stitching swirled about his collar and the long panel that descended from his slender hips along with his rippling skirts. The robes were drawn tight around the waist, giving Ral the perfect view of how slender the stranger was and how shapely the man’s hips were. He was willing to bet that tightness would give him a perfect view if the stranger turned just a little… Ral’s attention was drawn back to the stranger’s face as his cherubic features turned a little pink at the awkwardness of his situation – offering a man a fork who had given no reply and simply stared at him.

“Thanks,” Ral mumbled, taking the fork. That was much better, now he could pick up anything he wanted!

The gorgeous stranger smiled and Ral noticed he was holding a plate full of tiny desserts too.

“The food is really good, isn’t it?” he commented. Ral nodded in passionate agreement.

“Have you tried the eclairs?” he replied. The angel shook his head and promptly leaned forward to pluck one off the platter and pop it in his mouth. His eyes widened.

“Good, right?” Ral commented. He couldn’t help but notice that there was a little cream on the stranger’s lips. Would pointing that out be considered inappropriate? Less inappropriate than trying to wipe it off himself, but still…

The angel promptly swallowed and smiled widely.

“Amazing,” he stated, “Have you tried the custard slices? They’re so delicious!”

With that cream on his face, the angel was looking pretty delicious himself. Ral was still torn about whether he should mention it, but allowed himself to be passed a custard slice, and was promptly distracted by the tiny purple flower that the cook had added to the top.

“Can you eat flowers?” he asked the angel.

“I think so?” he replied, “Otherwise, I don’t think they’d be allowed to go on cake.”

He reached over to pluck a rose petal off the top of nearby trifle. Ral couldn’t help but watch, slightly mesmerised by the way the pink petal vanished between equally pink lips.

“Kind of weird,” the angel mused, chewing on the sugary foliage, “Not unpleasant though.”

Ral decided to eat the custard slice he’d been given. It was also really good. He cast about for another recommendation and remembered the chocolate mousse he’d tried five minutes ago. It also had flowers on the top, though those looked like crystalised pansies.

“Try this.” He offered the angel a tiny spoon and a little glass of mousse. He eagerly accepted and soon there was chocolate on his lips as well as cream. Ral really ought to tell him about that but, well, he’d probably work it out when his next bite tasted like chocolate.

They took each other on a guided tour up and down the banquet tables, pointing out things that looked especially tasty and daring the other to try it. They wandered between sweet and savoury, neither caring that they were mixing trifle with roast chicken, meringue with sweet potato. They were almost back at the desserts, when Ral tried to get his new companion to try a savoury tart shaped like a playing card, with detailing made out of chutney. However, after almost half an hour of fluttering up and down the tables, he realised he still didn’t have the gorgeous stranger’s name.

“I’m sorry,” he told the angel, “I’m forgetting my manners completely.”

The angel looked at him curiously, fork stuck in his mouth, giving him a slightly pouty expression. 

“What’s your name? I’ve been calling you ‘angel’ in my head for the last half an hour but I guess that’s totally not it.”

The man blushed heavily, pink all the way up to his ears. Oh no, he was just too cute. Ral had come here for food, food and more food, he hadn’t expected someone quite so handsome to just pop up in front of him like a miracle.

“It’s Tomik,” said the angel, glancing about as if he was worried someone might be listening into their conversation.

“Though…you can call me Angel if you want.”

He blushed even darker. Was he trying to flirt? Was that flirting? Ral’s heart skipped a beat. Gods, Tomik was actually flirting with him. He was evidently a shy person and more than a little awkward about it, but bless him for having a go. Ral wasn’t exactly unresponsive.

“I’m Ral,” he said, offering Tomik a gauntleted hand, “Nice to meet you _Angel_ ,”

Tomik almost skipped in his eagerness to step forward and shake his hand.

“N-Nice to meet you too.” He fumbled with one of his sleeves for a moment. Ral couldn’t help but notice there was a roll of parchment in there. Notes? What were those for?

“I-I hope you didn’t get caught in that rain storm earlier!” Tomik exclaimed. Ral shrugged.

“Just missed it thankfully. Did you?”

Tomik shook his head, carefully slipping the parchment back up his sleeve and out of sight.

“Oh no, I was safe inside by the time it happened. Do-Do you want to get a drink?”

Ral looked about for a passing waiter. Sure enough, one was steadily making their way in their direction. He snagged two glasses, presenting one of them to Tomik with a flourish. Tomik laughed, even his laughter was gorgeous. Was he sure he wasn’t actually an angel? Because he was pretty much perfect in every way.

Tomik took a sip of his drink and made a surprised expression.

“Oh, this is apple wine,” he commented, “Did you know that there’s a particular type of apple called the Freeman’s apple? It’s named that because an ancient lord wanted to create a fruit that could have, even the lowliest beggar. Even though merchants sell them, you can’t get arrested for taking a Freeman’s apple, because by law, they’re for everyone!”

He seemed embarrassed by his own babbling. As if that had slipped out without meaning to. So he was bookish type? He was just plain adorable. More importantly, there were apples you could steal and not getting arrested for? That was so important in case he ever needed to rob a market for a quick meal.

“Really,” Ral replied, “That’s really neat. Good on that lord for making sure everyone can get something to eat.”

“Yes, he must have been a really nice man,” said Tomik, taking another sip of his wine.

Ral knew a fact about apples.

“Did you know that you can run some machines on apple juice rather than oil?” he said, “You need a lot of it. But you can get enough energy out of a crate of apples to power a small fan or a cuckoo clock, for about a month.”

“I didn’t,” Tomik replied, sounding genuinely fascinated, “Imagine how much we could power with all the apples that go to waste!”

“They say apples are really magical,” Ral continued, “Especially the poisonous ones. One bite out of one of those can send you into a coma. Kind of scary really.”

They continued to talk about apples for a few more minutes, before Tomik noticed a crowd gathering around the chocolate fountains. Once he pointed them out, Ral couldn’t help but be intrigued about it too. There were three immense fountains by the dessert tables, one for white chocolate, one for dark chocolate, and the middle one was for milk. It was this one that seemed to be gathering a lot of attention. They went to see what the fuss was about, the crowd parting before them as they approached. Once they were at the table, Ral immediately saw the problem. The other fountains were cascading molten chocolate over their many domed layers, flowing perfectly into a pool of glistening chocolate below. The milk chocolate fountain however, was making disturbing glugging noises, spurts of chocolate being shot out of the top, spraying on the table around it and on many people’s clothes. He hastily threw an arm out, so Tomik didn’t get too close and get chocolate all over his white robes.

“Oh dear,” Tomik commented, “It looks like it’s broken. I wonder if anyone in the kitchen knows how to fix it.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Ral, already pretty sure he could tell what the problem was. Chocolate fountains were pretty simple machines. They were pretty much water fountains full of gooey goodness rather than water. The crowd around the chocolate fountain murmured as he approached the edge, narrowly avoiding a splatter of molten chocolate, which hit the floor instead. He narrowed his eyes at the lowest tier, where the fountain would draw from the pool below, sucking it back up to the top so it could cascade back down again in a pleasing fashion. Clearing his throat, he straightened his gauntlets a little.

“Yes, I’ve got this, give me a moment.”

“Be careful,” said Tomik, “It’s very ho-“

Too late, Ral had stuck his hand in the melted chocolate.

\---

Tomik gasped as Ral plunged his hands into the liquid chocolate. He clasped one hand over his mouth, scared that the man was going to do himself a terrible injury. Yet he barely flinched as he began to root about in the base of the fountain, his gigantic metal gloves clearly protecting him from the heat. Judging by all his interesting comments about machines, Tomik could only assume the man was an artificer. Handsome, witty and smart? It was like the universe had thrown him a miracle wrapped up in a dashing deep blue suit. He was smitten. When Ral had called him ‘Angel’ he had felt like he was about to swoon right there and then. And Ral hadn’t even thought him strange after he’d given him that apple fact! Usually people looked at him like he was being weird when he shared something interesting from his studies. However, Ral had actually engaged with him, actually continued the conversation and shared with him what he’d learnt on the topic! He was perfect! Tomik was terrified of being too forward. He’d almost bolted when he’d suggested Ral continued his new nickname, but now he was feeling a lot bolder. Ral was almost too good to be true. Tomik just _had_ to keep him around. Maybe this ball wasn’t such a waste after all. Maybe he could please his own ambitions and that of his parents’? Imagine… He was almost overcome by the thought of getting to do scandalous things with such a kind and handsome man.

“Aha!” Ral proclaimed.

Tomik leaned in a little closer as Ral removed his hand from the fountain. Suddenly, the entire fountain started running smoothly again, milk chocolate cascading down the bowl-like tiers with the grace of its fellows. Tomik instantly grabbed Ral some napkins as he returned, gauntlet absolutely covered in chocolate. However, there was something in his hand, something small and round. A strawberry? There had been an entire strawberry stuck in the fountain?

“Look what I found,” Ral said, smiling as he offered him the chocolate-covered strawberry, “Here’s your problem. Want to try it?”

His smile almost took Tomik’s breath away. Inspiration struck, coursing like fire through his veins. After a split second of hesitation, he stepped towards Ral. He was clearly expecting to drop the strawberry on Tomik’s plate, however the prince had other plans in mind. He’d read about someone doing this in one his romance novels. It admittedly had been with a yoghurt-dipped cherry, but this would surely work too.

Slowly, so not to spook Ral and get accidently punched in the face, Tomik reached up and wrapped his lips around the proffered strawberry. In one smooth lick, his tongue cleaned a smooth trail up Ral’s finger and through the liquid chocolate. He kept his eyes on Ral’s all the way through the process, delighted as the man turned very red as Tomik’s tongue gently circled, cleaning the last remnants of strawberry off his fingertips. There were many gasps from the surrounding guests, no doubt shocked and scandalised by their prince’s extremely forward behaviour. However Ral’s gaze has not left his as he stepped back, gently chewing on strawberry.

“I-err…wow.” Ral was lost for words and Tomik’s heart was doing somersaults. If that didn’t get the message across, he didn’t know what would. The other guests began to mutter as he offered Ral the napkins to get the rest of the chocolate off, absentmindedly licking his lips, still tasting the odd combination of chocolate, strawberry and metal. Ral wiped himself off, the metal of that gauntlet now rather smeary, but chocolate-free. He stepped forwards. Both he and Tomik were blushing heavily after that little display, but Tomik was too excited to stop now.

He offered Ral his hand as the band started up across the hall.

“May I have this dance?”

Ral took his hand with a broad grin.

“You may, but I have to warn you, I’m terrible at dancing.”

He was, but Tomik couldn’t bring himself to complain one bit. To Ral’s credit, he never once stepped on Tomik’s feet, and he did have a rough sense of rhythm. It wasn’t that Ral couldn’t dance, he just didn’t know how. Probably not something they taught you at artificer school.

“Hold my hand like this,” Tomik instructed, shifting his hand in Ral’s, “And then put your other arm round my waist.”

Ral made a little spluttering sound.

“Round your-“

“Waist,” Tomik reminded him gently, with a smile, “You can do it. I believe in you.”

Ral did as hewas told, drawing Tomik closer so his nose brushed against the lapels of Ral’s tailcoat. A little closer than Tomik had intended, but he was very happy to work with this. 

Ral was a quick learner. Thankfully, they’d joined in on a very slow number. There was plenty of time to simply sway and stare into each other’s eyes. Ral seemed to be learning from the other dancers, and by the time the next piece of music started, he seemed to have mastered the basics.

“Hand on my hip,” Tomik reminded him. He let out a squeak that had the next couple along staring at them.

“Th-that wasn’t my hip,” he stammered. Ral’s smile turned into a smirk and Tomik thought he was about to faint.

“It’s nicer than your hip,” Ral murmured into his ear. Tomik broke away for a swirl before returning, closer than before, right into his arms. Two could play at that game.

“You’re doing really well,” Tomik said, cheek pressed against the smooth plane of Ral’s chest, “Considering how tight your trousers are.”

Ral let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup as Tomik pressed against him, showing how tight those trousers had become since they’d started dancing so intimately.

“I think I know a place where I can help you with that,” Tomik whispered, breaking hold entirely to wrap his arms about Ral’s shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He'd never been so forward in his life! 

There was a rumble in Ral’s chest. Tomik felt one slightly sticky gauntlet at his chin, a finger lifting his face so their eyes met. Those mesmerising blues were darkened with desire as Ral murmured:

“I think there’s something else I want to taste first.”

\-----

He had thought the free food would be the highlight of this whole adventure. Yet, as he was led away from the dance floor by a gorgeous man who was clearly very into him, Ral was already revising that statement. Had he come here intending to make out in a closet? No. Was he totally into that idea if that was where this was going? One hundred percent.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Tomik pulled him past a pair of surly looking guards and out into a long fancy corridor full of portraits and vases on spindly tables. Halfway through the gallery was a door, which Tomik pulled open to reveal a small lounge full of plush velvet chaise longue and a few overstuffed armchairs. Expecting a cupboard, Ral was momentarily taken-aback before being promptly distracted by a tug to the hand, dragging him inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, he found himself presented with an expectant but nervous looking angel. For all his bravado in the ballroom, now he had got Ral to himself, Tomik didn’t look like he knew where to start. He looked so gods damn adorable, flushed and worked up like this, that Ral felt it was only a mercy to gently press his lips to his. There was no better place to start than where they left off.

Sat on one of the extravagant chaise longue, they exchanged kisses, light at first, brushing lips against flushed cheeks, before chancing a few firmer caresses as their confidence increased.

“I-I think I need to tell you something,” Tomik gasped. Whatever it was didn’t stop him leaning in for another kiss, prodding Ral’s lips apart with the tip of his tongue. He tasted like strawberries and whipped cream, letting out the most gorgeous gasp as Ral wrapped his arms around his waist, drawing him even closer, almost into his lap.

“What’s that?” Ral murmured against his lips, as they parted for deep breaths and to take in each other’s flushed yet exhilarated expressions. Tomik smiled, reaching up to muss Ral’s magically groomed hair and leave little kisses along his jawline.

“You know what this ball is for, don’t you?” he whispered.

Ral nodded, ducking his head to catch those kiss-reddened lips with his own. He found himself tracing circles into the small of Tomik’s back, through the fabric of his robes. In a moment of daring, he couldn’t help but chance a quick slide of the hand, venturing downwards to settle on that very lovely ass he’d got to feel whilst they were dancing. Tomik let out a gorgeous little moan and Ral felt like he was truly experiencing a miracle.

“Well,” Tomik managed, battling between the need to keep speaking and relieve Ral of his jacket. As Ral removed it for him, he began to run his hands over the silk of Ral’s shirt. After a moment of nervous excitement, Tomik settled for tangling one hand in his hair, the other pressed against Ral’s chest, fumbling at buttons as if he yearned to see what lay underneath. Ral had no objections. The angel tasted divine, of all the desserts they had tried coupled with something that was distinctly Tomik that was better than any cake or pastry. These kisses were admittedly making it very hard to get whatever he needed to say said, but Ral would stop whenever Tomik wished. Judging by how filthy he was turning their kisses, Tomik wanted nothing of the sort.

Ral let out a moan of his own as Tomik decided he’d had enough of his current position and shifted so he was sat squarely in Ral’s lap. 

“I-I don’t want to ruin this,” he continued, “But-“

“I-I need to tell ,” Tomik leaned into the open mouthed kisses that Ral lay from his jaw and down his throat, stopping a moment to suck a red mark into that untarnished pale skin.

“The-the prince,” he gasped, trying to get the words out, seemingly struggling against his own better judgement. Shifting in Ral’s lap, he let out a moan laced with a whimper as he tried to distract Ral away from his collar and back to his face.

“I’m-I’m the prince.”

Ral froze.

Tomik looked up at him with wide pleading eyes as Ral’s hands stopped their carresses, one still very much on Tomik’s ass, the other tangled amongst the laces of his robes. The longer Ral was silent, the more heartbroken Tomik’s gaze became. The poor thing looked like he was about to cry.

“Is-Is that a problem?”

Holy wow.

Holy fucking wow. This-this angel was the _prince_? The prince of whole god-damn kingdom. The prince who was being forced to marry at this ball. He had his hands on the prince’s-

“No…No!” Ral insisted, before Tomik might actually cry.

“It’s just-wow… I guess princes are as handsome as all the stories say. They might have done you a disservice, if-if I’m honest.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Tomik to blush any redder. Yet he managed it. Eyes glazed with lust, lips rosy and slightly damp from all their kissing. His glasses were askew and hanging oddly off one ear. He was truly a vision to behold as he leant in to cup Ral’s face, one finger tracing along his stubble.

“How do you learn to be so smooth?” he asked, clearly not talking about his facial hair, “Or have you just been sent here to make all my dreams come true?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ral replied shifting him a little so they were at an even height. Tomik was right. He really needed to do something about these trousers, if they were going to be like this, Tomik sat directly on his crotch.

“I thought you were _my_ dream come true.”

Tomik let out a little whimper before promptly seizing hold of Ral’s cravat, tugging it off and throwing it somewhere across the room. Taking that as his cue, Ral buried his hands into Tomik’s skirts, getting a nice firm grip as Tomik moaned, leaving his own marks against the now-exposed portion of Ral’s chest.

“B-Before we go any further,” Tomik gasped, pressing kisses against Ral’s chest as he pushed silks aside to expose more bare skin.

“Please. Please take off your gauntlets. They’re…a bit much and I want to feel _you_.”

Ral couldn’t stop himself blushing crimson as he let go of Tomik’s ass and unfastened the great mechanical gloves. They landed on the floor with a clatter, before Ral returned his attention to the lacing up the back of Tomik’s robes. If he was getting stripped by the most gorgeous man alive, then it would be rude not to return the favour.

The lacing was incredibly fiddly, not aided by the facts that Tomik was eager to wiggle in his lap and all the sensations caused thereof. As he shared another open-mouth kiss, all tongue and traces of chocolate, he finally found the knot that had the whole mess unravelling. White fabric cascaded off Tomik’s shoulders, exposing a blush that trailed down his chest towards-

**BEEP.**

They both jumped, Tomik almost falling out of his lap.

**BEEP.**

Ral turned this way and that, trying to find the source of the alarm. In his line of work, any loud beeps tended to be an alarm and alarms had to be obeyed in case of sudden fiery death.

**BEEP.**

He found the source. It was one of his gauntlets. The timer was flashing red digits at him proclaiming it to be 11:59.

One minute to midnight.

**BEEP.**

“Oh fuck.”

Tomik looked up at him, concern eating its way through the arousal.

“Ral, what’s going on?”

**BEEP.**

“I have to go.” Ral started hastily buttoning up his shirt before he realised he didn’t have time for that. He gently moved a very confused, and partially naked, Tomik back onto the chaise longue, trying to get to his feet.”

“Why?” Tomik asked.

“I have to be home by midnight otherwise, otherwise…” Ral scooped up his jacket, his waistcoat, buttoning up his trousers that he hadn’t even realised Tomik had got to.

**BEEP.**

“My carriage, my clothes, everything…”

“We can find you another carriage,” Tomik stated, eyes wide with increasing shock and confusion.

“Please, aren’t we in the middle of-

**BEEP.**

Ral swore loudly. Scooping up everything he could reach, he turned and sprinted back towards the door. Tomik got to his feet with a shout of _wait_ , his robes falling off him as he tried to chase him back into the gallery. Ral permitted himself one last glance back at the scantily-clad prince as he found the entrance to the ballroom.

“I’m really sorry!” he called, “Thank you! Thank you! This was the best night of my life!”

“It can still be!” Tomik called, “It's not over! Come back!”

He tripped over his trailing robes, catching himself on the doorway as Ral shook his head.

“I’ll miss you so much Angel.”

And with that he leapt through the door and out of sight.


	4. Love and Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero flees the ball and his prince remains, hot, bothered and more than a little miserable. Can Prince Tomik reunite with his one true love? Can Ral go back to a life of working for scraps? Find out in the conclusion of "A Little Touch of Magic!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this journey with me through this rather strange AU. The keen eyed among you may have noticed that this story now is in fact one in a series!
> 
> Keep an eye on my tumblr adashofstarshine.tumblr.com, if you want updates on when the next trip through this AU is going to appear. You can also find cute art there of Ral and Tomik at the ball!
> 
> The next story will be called "An Eye for Beauty"

Tomik was forced to retreat back into the lounge, for fear of being seen in only his underwear. With the lacing on the back of his robes thoroughly undone, it just a matter of time before he lost the garment completely. Once back inside, with the door closed behind him, he looked hopelessly around at the now lonely space. Just a few moments ago, he’d almost been undone himself. Safe in the arms of the most gorgeous man alive, clothes dropping floorwards, he’d been so close to the fulfilling his dreams. With the man he was newly-smitten with no less. He had been so sure he’d found the one. The one who he could love, and maybe Ral would love him in return. They’d worked so well together! Ral hadn’t cared about his awkward stammering, or his false confidence, or his strange facts about fruit. He’d encouraged him. He’d cherished him. Tomik shivered, the sensation of Ral’s hands on his skin just about lingering in his absence. Tomik’s imagination was swiftly filling in what should have happened, what might have been. A crazy part of him wondered if he should indulge the heat, sit there and give himself the sensation that Ral hadn’t had the time to give. Touch places he longed for Ral to touch. He could imagine it was Ral. But those strong hands, so rough and work-hardened, were nothing like his own – too soft from years of studying.

“Ral,” he whimpered, drawing his robes around him, the silk cold and unwelcome compared to the previous heat.

Was it something he’d done? Was it something he’d said? No. No he refused to believe that. Ral had gone running when his gauntlets had started beeping. Tomik crossed the room to where said gauntlet now lay, under the chaise longue they had both been occupying. It seemed Ral had only managed to grab one on his way out. The metal glove seemed ludicrously heavy as Tomik picked it up off the floor. It was covered in a myriad of knobs and dials, each as mystifying as the next. There was a clock of sorts, or at least a little dial that told the time. 12:15. Tomik cradled the gauntlet in his lap, searching for any sort of clue as to how this could lead him back to Ral. Yet Ral didn’t seem to have put his name, or his home address on it. Why would he? He was supposed to be wearing it. Tomik inspected the various mechanisms. With the appropriate amount of hesitance, he pressed a plain looking button.

A paper drinking straw fired out of the gauntlet like a tiny rocket. It flew across the room before landing a few feet away, on top of something scarlet. Tomik got to his feet and went to see what it was.

Ral’s cravat.

The one he’d so exuberantly thrown aside. The red fabric was crumpled on the floor, spots of chocolate just about visible on the dark lace. In a moment of pointless misery, Tomik found himself wrapping the scarlet fabric about his wrist like a memento. He thought of knights who would wear the handkerchiefs of their lovers as they rode out into battle. For good luck, to think of them always as they rode to their inevitable demises. Tomik didn’t want to think of Ral. He wanted Ral back right here right now! He wasn’t a knight! He was a prince. Surely that was good for something?

“Tomik dear?”

Tomik gave a yelp as his mother suddenly materialised through the wall beside him. He almost tripped over his robes again but managed to recover his dignity by falling into the nearest armchair. As he pulled himself upright into a respectable sitting position, his mother drifted over, looking concerned. One downside of having ghost parents, you never heard them coming. An upside was the fact they couldn’t die again, so he would never had to inherit the throne. However, the walking through walls thing had delivered him many a nasty shock throughout the years. She joined him, kneeling beside his armchair, putting one spectral hand upon his arm.

“Tomik, your father and I have heard some rather surprising rumours from our ball guests.”

Tomik looked up at her face. She glanced at the gauntlet that he was still clutching in his hands before gently meeting his gaze.

“The guests are saying you indulged in some rather salacious activities with a young man dressed like an artificer. Is that true?”

There was no point denying it. Dozens of people must have seen them at the chocolate fountain, and dozens more whilst they were dancing.

“Yes Mother.”

She smiled broadly, reaching up to ruffle his hair. It felt a lot like being doused in cold water as her hand passed over his scalp.

“And where is the charming rogue who has stolen the heart of my little boy? We must meet him.”

Tomik’s bottom lip trembled.

“He’s-He’s gone,” he stammered, “Midnight came and he-he ran for it. Something about his carriage, and his clothes. I-I told him we had plenty of carriages but… He looked scared. He ran away.”

He stared at his lap, eyes filling with tears. He’d gone on such a wild ride of emotions this evening. First nerves, then fear, then excitement, then a rare burst of self-confidence followed by an ungodly amount of arousal. Yet now he felt small and sad – like he’d seen a glimpse of paradise only to have it torn forever from his grasp. Like all he’d ever wanted had been dangled before him, but it would remain forever out of his reach. He felt hollow, like a part of him was missing. A part of him he wasn’t even aware he had up until now. Yet he yearned for its return now it was absent. Was that his heart? His metaphorical heart, he obviously still had his literal one. Had Ral taken all his love with him as he fled? Tomik’s emotions got the better of him as a solitary tear trickled down his cheek.

“Mother,” he whispered, “Mother, I thought he was it. I wanted him to be it. He was the one.”

Her smile turned to one of pity as she wiped away his tear.

“He may still be,” she told him, her tone so warm and affectionate that Tomik dared look up at her from his sorrow.

“We can find him, wherever he’s gone, we can find him and bring him here. Did he share in your affections?”

Tomik nodded.

“He-He was so perfect,” he sniffled, “He was smart, he was kind, he was really really handsome. He even liked my silly facts.”

His mother chuckled at that.

“Then he’s a keeper Tomik, and we’ll help you find him.”

She leaned over and took his hands in hers. Ever so gently, she guided his grip so he turned the gauntlet over in his hands. Even though they could share a sense of touch, his parents were too ephemeral to interact with anything, or anyone, that wasn’t their own metaphorical flesh and blood. Tomik could get all the very chilly hugs he desired, but it was impossible for them to pick up objects or open doors. As she turned the gauntlet, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. He’d been so focused on all the oddities on the gauntlet’s exterior, that he hadn’t even thought to check inside. Next to one of the buckles that kept the metal on, was a symbol – a dragon’s head, followed by a line of letters and numbers: NV35721.

“A serial number?” he wondered aloud. His mother nodded.

“Artificers are proud sorts, very protective of their gear, especially when they crafted the devices. Your father and I met with some of the city’s finest artificers many moons ago, to set up the filters in our city’s rivers. This little dragon here.”

She pointed at the dragon’s face.

“That is Niv Mizzet, the Faerie God Dragon who resides in Nivix Tower. The greatest of all artificers, he emblazons his own face onto his work so everyone knows he made them. Perhaps his lack of modesty can help us find your lover.”

Tomik’s eyes widened. He could write to the dragon! If Niv Mizzet was so proud, he would surely have a record of who bought his gear and where they lived! That was so much easier than his other thought, which had admittedly involved searching every building in the city. Truly, not practical.

“I’ll send a messenger to the dragon,” he proclaimed, “Tonight!”

He jumped to his feet, still holding the gauntlet, ready to do that straight away. His mother also got to her feet.

“Of course, we will excuse you from the ball.”

“Thank you Mother!”

He turned to run out the room, but his mother suddenly called

“Tomik!”

“Yes?”

“Before you go finding a messenger, please find yourself a clean set of robes. You have some rather incriminating marks on your behind.”

Tomik craned his head to look over his shoulder, shifting his robes to try and get a better view of what she was talking about. Indeed, there was a slightly chocolatey handprint on his ass. He blushed heavily but couldn’t help but laugh through the embarrassment. This had truly been one extraordinary night.

Ignoring the sounds of music and revelry still coming from the ballroom, he half-walked, half-sprinted back to his own chambers. He ignored the startled cries of many servants, who were clearly expecting their prince to be at the ball being thrown in his honour. However, Tomik was no longer in the mood for festivities. He was a man with a mission. A man seeking his true love’s kiss. Well, more of his true love’s kisses. They had done a lot of kissing. As he got back to his rooms and changed, he could help but notice the large number of bruises that now dotted his neck and shoulders. He let out a little shiver as he felt them one by one. Ral really knew how to make a man feel claimed.

Before his thoughts could stray too much in that direction, and distract him from the task at hand, he marched over to his desk. Pulling out a roll of letter paper and a quill, he hastily penned a courteous letter to the dragon, making sure to include the gauntlet’s serial number and the reason why he wanted to locate its user. Once it was written, he let the ink dry, rolled it up, added the appropriate seal, before hurrying off to find a messenger. The royal errand runners were up at all times of day and night, so it wasn’t hard to find someone with a swift horse willing to make the trip to Nivix. He watched the messenger gallop out of sight, heart hammering in his chest as the sound of hooves disappeared into the night.

Now all he could do was wait.

And wait he did. He paced his rooms, back and forth, back and forth. No book was able to satisfy him. Sleep was pointless whilst desperation ruled his thoughts. Ral was out there somewhere, probably asleep in his own bed. Tomik watched from the window as the train of carriages left. Ball over, hopefully the guests had a good time even if they hadn’t got what they came for. Perhaps some of them had hooked up in his absence. He hoped so. He hoped there would be all sorts of stories he could tell about this event. Once he knew if his own tale would end in joy or woe, he would certainly tell his penpal about it. Hopefully then, he’d have some more stories to include as well.

The messenger returned shortly after 3am. Tomik payed the man well for his exceptional speed and picked open the large scarlet envelope with trembling fingers. Just as he was about to pull out the multiple pieces of paper enclosed inside, he heard someone clear their throat very loudly outside his door. His father! That’s was how he signalled his arrival without being able to knock.

Tomik hastened to the door to reveal both his parents standing there. They looked expectant as he ushered them inside. They had seemingly heard of his messenger’s return before he had, and were as eager to see the contents as he.

“Any man that can make my boy feel so happy and sure of himself, is a man worth pursuing,” stated his father, “Please, tell us what the dragon says.”

Tomik chose the biggest piece of paper first and read aloud:

**“To His Royal Highness, Prince Tomik of House Vrona.**

**I anticipated your letter as soon as I sent young Zarek to your festivities. Consider it a gift from myself, Niv Mizzet, to the esteemed family that rules our magnificent land. I did indeed furnish Ral Zarek with a pair of Nivix social gauntlets for his venture to the Royal Palace. I was glad you were able to retain one of these, as in contacting me, you may entwine your fortunes back together.**

**There is a matter you must know about Ral Zarek. You are correct in saying he is an artificer. His knowledge of machinery, coupled with his innate strain of magic, makes him such. However, he is of the belief that he is a simple engineer. Lesser than that, in fact. I must inform you that the man you seek is in fact an indentured servant to the men who own the “Cranks and Cogs Mechanical Parlour” – a foul set of workshops in the city centre, who cater to this city’s fantastical needs.”**

Tomik stopped reading to glance at his parents.

“What does he mean, an indentured servant?”

The King and Queen glanced at each other, clearly uncomfortable. His mother looked deeply concerned

“What’s wrong?” Tomik pressed. His father let out a small sigh that ruffled his ghostly moustache.

“An indentured servant,” he explained, “Is a servant that has signed their life away to a business. They do not get paid for their labour, not in a sense of wages or personal wealth. Their pay takes the form of having a place to sleep, of having clothes on their back, and food to eat. It is a desperate lifestyle, chosen only by those with no where else to turn. To put it simply, your Ral Zarek has given ownership of himself over to these engineers.”

Tomik’s mouth fell open.

“But-but people can’t own other people!” he protested, “That’s slavery! That’s-that’s illegal! By the ‘Free and Just Rights of Man’ laws set down by our forefathers in the Year of-”

“We know Tomik, we know,” his father interrupted, “Your knowledge of the law is as impeccable as ever. Indentured servitude should be illegal, however there is a loophole many businesses exploit. The people who become these servants-“

“Slaves,” Tomik interrupted.

His father nodded, conceding the point after little to no thought.

“Yes slaves. The people forced to take such a desperate route, they have nowhere else to turn. Because they willingly consent, they sign contracts agreeing to their owner’s terms, it isn’t illegal. It is a contract enforceable by law.”

“But those people should never have been forced into such a state to begin with!” Tomik protested, “They didn’t willingly consent, they agreed because they had no other option! That isn’t the same thing!”

He was starting to tear up again. Ral was a slave to some unknown engineers. He’d been so hungry when he’d arrived at the ball. Were those men starving him? Those men had to be starving him! He needed to save Ral now!

“What does the rest of the letter say sweetie?” asked his mother.

Tomik turned his attention back to the dragon’s message.

 **“If you would be so amenable,”** Niv Mizzet continued, **“I have a proposition for you, your Royal Highness. You see, I have been watching over young Zarek for quite some time. His magic talent hold a staggering amount of promise, and I wish to harness that talent. That freak rainstorm that soaked your guests? Ral Zarek’s doing. He has power over the skies themselves. The problem is, he is bound to those human men, and taking him away would be deemed kidnapping by law. So, I must regretfully turn to a higher authority. I wish to make Ral Zarek my student and you wish to make Ral Zarek your husband. He can of course be both and live a life of learning and luxury.**

**If you agree, there are two options before us**

**One, order a raid on the premises of the Cranks and Cogs Mechanical Parlour. Your royal authority could launch a raid, but you technically wouldn’t have the legal power to go in without a warrant stating good reason. They may let your guards in, they may not. That is a risk you must take. I understand that even the royal family must obey the law of the land. Failure may damn your good reputation as you take the law into your own hands.**

**Two, order Ral Zarek to be arrested and brought before you. The crimes of an indentured servant fall upon those who ‘employ’ them. His owners will not want him to tarnish their names, so will drop their ownership of him like hot coals. By the time he reaches you, he will be a free man. Following this, he can then give you a reliable account of the abuses the men at the parlour placed upon him. That will be sufficient evidence to lock down that hell-hole for good.**

**In case your parents are wondering, Nivix will be more than happy to pick up any contracts currently held by Cranks and Cogs. Our service is far more efficient and of a much higher quality than anything that comes out of that sty.”**

Tomik turned to look at his parents. His mother’s mouth was slightly open in shock. His father was fiddling with his cufflinks, a sure sign that he was thinking this whole proposition through.

“We have to save Ral,” he told them, “We have to make sure he’s free and bring these men to justice!”

“We know dear,” said his mother, “The dragon is a powerful ally to have, and clearly has an interest in your boyfriend. I admit to liking the idea of having a genuine mage in the family… One so powerful that he could command storms? Well, that would be quite something.”

She glanced over at her husband, who had nodded a little at her words.

“I think you should sleep on the matter,” he informed Tomik, “You have had a long and gruelling day. Your mother and I will discuss what we think is best whilst you sleep. Over breakfast, we can discuss our plan of action for tomorrow. We will find you your mage-lover. We promise you that.”

Tomik smiled, it wavered a little as he fought back a fresh wave of tears. Tonight had been a lot. The horror of realising Ral’s position in life had coupled with his desire to do something, anything, and now the thought that he’d have to wait until the morning… It was all too much.

“There, there,” said his mother, gliding forwards, “You’ve done so well today Tomik. You were brave and went out before all those people. You shook hands and smiled at strangers, you talked and mixed like the most perfect prince a kingdom could hope for. What’s more, you found love whilst doing so. We’re so proud of you.”

At that, he really did start crying. She laughed and wrapped her arms round him in a very cold embrace.

“I think a good night’s sleep will help,” she assured him, “In the morning, we’ll find your Ral. But for now, rest.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. He dabbed his tears on the red cravat, still tied about his wrist. It was a promise. A promise that he would find Ral. A promise that he would save him from his awful life and make him a free man. A promise that love would find a way and happy ending truly did exist for the pair of them.

It was a promise he clutched tight to himself, breathing in the scent of chocolate and aftershave, as he swiftly fell asleep.

\----

Ral had yet to shift out of his corner. For once in his life, he wasn’t hungry. Yet that didn’t stop him feeling awful. He’d done it. He’d got to the ball and back. He’d left on the cusp of midnight, just like he’d promised. He’d eaten all the fancy food he could stomach. If you had told him, several hours ago, that was what he’d achieved, he’d consider it a job well done. Yet, as he settled into the bare concrete, he couldn’t help but feel hollow inside. He fisted his hand in the scraps of his shirt, however that did nothing to fill the emptiness. He’d lost something in that palace. He’d probably gained weight from all the food, but he’d left something else behind. He screwed his eyes shut as if that could wipe away the image - the shock and loss in the prince’s eyes. He could still see him, leaning half dressed out of the lounge, begging him to come back. Gods, he had been so desperate, so beautiful… One moment, he’d had all he’d ever wanted. He was warm, fed and in the company of the most gorgeous man in existence. The next he was back here in this hell, with a bleak future ahead of him.

For the first time in many years, he wanted to run.

A long time ago, he had resigned himself to this fate. When he ran from that warehouse, he’d known the cost of getting caught. The price of being undesirable was to vanish from the world entirely. This whole city, no, the whole world, lived in a fantasy. Everything was artificially perfect. No one knew that better than an engineer who had to fix the canons that spread confetti for the festivals, flower petals in the spring, and artificial snow in the winter. The weather was always ideal for the time of year. The grass was always vibrant and green. The waters ran clear through the rivers and fountains. No one ever got hit by the trundling carts. No one publicly wept from loss or sorrow. Even under such a bright blue sky, there was a dark reason for that. If you tarnished the perfect image, if you dared disturb their constructed reality, you were as good as dead. When he was a teenager, everyone in that warehouse knew they were running on borrowed time. Perhaps that was why that lived, loved, partied, so freely. In a way, Ral had honoured that tradition. He’d eaten, drank, danced and made out with a stunning man he was never going to see again. When the warehouse had been busted open, they’d had a choice. A group of rowdy teens living illegally in an abandoned warehouse was a clear stain upon the city’s reputation. If they were caught, they would be wiped out of existence. No one would ever know they had lived. They would vanish in the arms of faceless guards. Vanish from all recollection, be taken out like the trash. No one knew what happened to those who disappeared, but Ral was willing to bet they were all dead .by now. He had chosen to live. If you could call signing your life over to a trio of tyrants ‘living.’ But what choice did he have? Death or slavery. He’d been so scared that anything seemed better than dying.

Now he wanted to take that chance.

Maybe if he ran, he could make it as far as the palace. Maybe he could see Tomik one last time before they hauled him away into oblivion. One last glance, one last apology, one last kiss. If he could just make his peace, touch those pale cheeks for a final time and assure him that there would be someone out there, someone who could make him as happy as he had. That would be worth it. Now he had tasted paradise, all strawberries, whipped cream and Tomik, he couldn’t live like this anymore. He’d tried the apple, the forbidden fruit, and now any time that wasn’t spent with his prince was torture beyond torture. It was too much to bear. First, he needed to sleep. He’d had an extremely long day, full of beatings, dragons and adventure. He had to take what rest he could, to have the energy required to make his desperate escape. Tomorrow. Whilst he had energy to burn, he would make his final dash across the city. To Tomik. Also, probably to his doom.

**BANG**

The sun was already high in the sky when Ral was promptly awoken by the sound of the great steel doors slamming open and ricocheting off the walls. He sat bolt upright, remnants of his shirt falling limply to the floor. Thunderous footsteps echoed through the workshop. Yells, a few pained cries, and a bellow of “ _Let them through”_ resounded throughout the dark and grimy halls. Ral frowned, none the wiser to what was happening. The footfalls were getting louder, accompanied by the clanking of what could be armour. Ral got to his feet, wondering if he should take this opportunity to make his escape. Armoured men were rampaging through the workshop, everyone was bound to be distracted! He grabbed a water bottle out of one of the cupboards and filled it from the tap. If he was going to run a few miles, he was going to need water. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any pockets, so he was carrying everything he wanted to bring with him. One water bottle would do. He could refill it at fountains and wells.

His shoes probably weren’t going to survive the trip. That was fine. It was unlikely he would either. Bottle in hand, he went for the back exit, intending to pass through the delivery bay and down the road. However, as soon as he was in the corridor, he heard the stomp of feet round the corner. Whoever was in the workshop was right in front of him. He swallowed hard and began to back away towards the staffroom again. Maybe he could wait there until they came past?

“There!”

The bellow echoed around the corner. Before Ral could get a foot through the staffroom door, he was surrounded by tall men in gold armour. The butt of a sword was slammed into his back and he staggered forward, gasping through the pain.

“What-the?!”

He felt enormous hands grab him by the arms, a thick iron shackle binding his wrists behind his back.

“What are you doing?!” he protested, trying to wiggle free but he was stuck between barriers of metal plate. The guards stared down at him, faceless through the blank golden sheen of their helmets. They were armed to the teeth. Javelins and spears strapped to their backs, short swords on their belts. One of them even had a net for catching fleeing captives. What was going on! He hadn’t even left yet! What was this for?

As he struggled uselessly to get free, he noticed that, unlike the common city guards, these golden warriors had a large crest emblazoned into their armour. It was the royal insignia again. These were palace guards?!

“Ral Zarek. You are under arrest by order of Their Royal Majesties, King and Queen of Vrona. Your attendance at the palace has been decreed mandatory. You will come with us.”

“What? Why? What did I do?” he cried, as he was manhandled to his feet. This made no sense! Why was he been taken to the palace? Had he really caused that much scandal at the ball? Did someone discover who he was and was that revolted a servant had shown up? Or maybe not. He was being arrested by the orders of the King and Queen. Were the King and Queen having him arrested for breaking their son’s heart? Was Tomik truly reacting that badly? Oh gods, what had he done?

“You are charged with theft,” announced one of the guards as they forced him to walk back towards the steel doors.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

Theft? That made no sense whatsoever!

“I haven’t stolen anything!” he exclaimed, “What am I accused of stealing? I’m innocent!”

The guards didn’t want to listen to him. Ral’s heart was pounding in his chest as a guard gripped each of his arms and marched him out the front of the workshop. As they went, he saw his bosses talking with another guard in even fancier armour. You could actually see that guard’s face, and as he passed them by, he watched the three tyrants pass her a roll of parchment.

“I’m innocent!” he protested again, sure that whatever had happened it was those men’s fault. They must have stolen something and pinned it on him! They were using him as a scapegoat! Tears welled in his eyes as a guard hit him squarely between the shoulders with the handle of his spear. This wasn’t fair! What had he done to deserve this?

“I haven’t stolen anything! I can tell you everywhere I’ve been over the last day and night. I have witnesses! I don’t steal!”

The men just watched him as he was shoved unceremoniously into the back of an armoured wagon. He made a mad dash for freedom as they went to close the barred door on him. He’d managed to a single arm out when he was promptly punched in the face by an armoured fist. Dazed, his face a mess of blood and tears, he stared helplessly out the back of the carriage as his former colleagues came out to watch him being driven away.

“They framed me!” he shouted, “I haven’t stolen anything! I’m innocent, you have to believe me!”

No one replied. No one even looked at him as the wagon began to pull away. It was as if he was truly beneath them. Too disgusting to focus on, the assembled engineers were watching the carriage, the wheels, anywhere but the bloody face peering out through the bars. Ral cradled his head, his nose smarting but thankfully not broken. Sliding down the wooden wall, he curled up into a ball, mopping up blood on his ruined clothing.

Why? What had he done to deserve this? Had fate decided he’d had too much of a good time last night and decided to swing his fortunes back in the other direction? Was he being punished for momentarily being happy? Ugh, why did the world hate him so much? Sure, he hadn’t expected to survive his attempt to get to the palace. Yes, he thought he was going to be made to vanish soon enough. But right now? For a crime he had never committed? If there was any justice in this cruel artificial world, why did it think this was the way he should go? Cold, alone and chained up like a criminal! He was a good and honest man. He just didn’t have the benefits of having a family, or any money, or even a functional set of clothes… Ral couldn’t help but sob into his knees, pain mixing with terror. Well, he guessed he would find out what happened to everyone who disappeared! He hoped it wouldn’t be too painful. He had enough pain as it was.

The wagon noisily clanked its way through the city. Ral could hear happy families laughing, children singing, and musicians playing merrily on street corners. People going about without a care in the world. He stared at them through the bars but they seemed completely oblivious to his presence. Calling for help would only disturb the peace. Another crime to add to his completely fictious one. What did they think he had stolen? There was no way he could have anything on him! Just look at him! He was juddered painfully as the wagon drove over a rut in the road, steadily climbing up hill. It was then that Ral remember where he was being taken – The Royal Palace! If this supposed robbery had happened last night, then Tomik could be his alibi. Tomik knew exactly where he was until midnight. He just had to shout really loud and hope his handsome prince would come to his rescue!

He was marched out of the carriage and through a huge set of double-doors that he’d only seen by lantern light. This was the same way as he’d come in for the ball, but instead of being led through to the ballroom, he was marched up a wide marble staircase and through another set of double doors. There were so many twists and turns, he could barely keep track of where he was going.

“Tomik!” he called at the top of his lungs, “Tomik! Help! I’ve been-“

He was promptly slapped into silence by an armoured gauntlet. However, that did not deter him. A few turns later and he was back to yelling:

“TOMIK! TOMIK, PLEASE HELP ME!”

Wham! He choked as all the air was forced from his chest, replaced with a searing pain as a large metal fist pummelled his rib cage. As he made to continue shouting, he tasted steel as the guard to his right, not the one who was beating him, clapped their hand over his mouth. He started to kick and writhe, panic rising in his chest as he was forced through yet another set of double doors, into a wide airy room that looked like some sort of study.

A lone figure was sat by the window, watching the flags rippling from the spires outside. He turned, as Ral was dumped unceremoniously onto the carpet in front of him. Ral peered up at him through the pain.

It was Tomik.

And he looked horrified.

\----

Tomik had heard Ral’s shouts from down the corridor. He’d been alarmed at the amount of pain in his voice, but now he was here before him, bleeding onto the carpet, Tomik couldn’t help but stare at the guards in abject horror.

“What did you do?!” he demanded of them, his voice weak with shock, “Why did you do this to him?”

The two guards looked at each other.

“We have arrested the criminal your Royal Highness,” reported one, “Just as you and the Captain asked.”

“I-I didn’t steal anything…” Ral groaned from the floor. Tomik's heart ached at the sight of him in so much pain, but he was also livid at these two idiots for putting Ral in such a state!

“Did the Captain not ask you to bring him in gently? Quietly? Didn’t she tell you that this wasn’t a real arrest?!”

The two guards looked at each other again.

“We-We might have missed that part,” said the other.

Tomik let out a cry of fury.

“Go back to your Captain and tell her what you did!” he ordered, “Exactly what you did! And she doesn’t fire you, I will!” His hand shook as he pointed at the door they’d come in through.

There was a clatter of armour as the two guards turned and ran back the way they came. Tomik forgot them immediately, sweeping across the room in a swirl of white robes. He knelt beside Ral, discovering the poor man had been bound in enchanted shackles, barely able to move if he wanted to. He located the rune that kept the shackles closed and promptly shattered it with a little magic of his own. The shackles fell to the ground with very heavy clank.

“Oh Ral I’m so sorry,” Tomik exclaimed, trying to help him into a sitting position. Ral was staring between him and the door with an expression of panic and confusion on his face. He was covered in blood, the trail of tears very evident from where he’d been crying. Tomik took out his handkerchief and began to wipe up the mess. Now Ral’s eyes were truly on him.

“I didn’t steal anything,” he repeatedly weakly. Tomik nodded, gently wiping away a few fresh tears.

“You didn’t,” he replied, “I know you didn’t. This whole arrest… it’s a ruse. You’re not in trouble. They were never meant to hurt you. Just take you away from those horrible men who forced you to sign your life away.”

“Wh-what?”

“When you were arrested, the engineers at the workshop, they revoked your contract, just like we thought they would. You’re a free man now.”

Ral seemed to be struggling to take this all in. He stared at Tomik, mouth slightly open like a fish out of water. Tomik continued to wipe away the blood ever so softly with his silk handkerchief.

“You’re free,” he said with a small smile, “Free of them forever. Free to live where you like, how you like. Though, I hope that would be with me.”

Ral blinked at him.

“The bosses,” he murmured, “The contract?”

“They were responsible for you, so if you committed any crime, the blame would fall on them,” Tomik elaborated, realising he hadn’t quite explained the whole story.

“So, I ordered the guard to stage an arrest. Sure enough, they handed the contract right over, relinquishing all power they had over you. You can help me burn it later if you want.”

“Don’t-“ Ral frowned, “Don’t I technically belong to you now?”

Tomik couldn’t help but go slightly pink, but now was not the time for witty remarks, now was the time for honesty.

“Yes, but I’m setting you free. You’re free Ral, isn’t that great?”

Ral nodded, clearly still trying to process everything he’d just learned.

“And, now you’re here. I can file a warrant to search that workshop. Together with your testimony and whatever we find when we search the place. We can arrest the workshop’s owners, lock them up and make sure they can never hurt anyone ever again!”

That seemed to snap Ral out of his confused haze. He moved so fast that Tomik let out a little squeak of shock. One moment, he was staring morosely at the floor, the next he had his arms round Tomik in the warmest and tightest hug Tomik had ever received. Tomik felt a few tears soak through the fabric of his robes and immediately returned the embrace. One arm about those shuddering shoulders, the other reaching up to gently run his fingers through Ral’s hair. He stayed silent, letting Ral have this moment. Letting him weep tears of pain, of joy, and of everything in between, as his life changed so dramatically around him. Tomik pressed little kisses to Ral’s hairline as he cried into the fabric of his robes.

They sat like that, entwined upon the carpet, for a little while. Until it seemed that Ral had no more tears to shed. Finally he looked up at Tomik, his eyes a little pink and swollen, but still unbelievably dashing nevertheless.

“So-so no one thinks I actually stole something?” he managed. Tomik smiled and gently ran finger down his cheek.

“No, well, only my heart.”

He blushed furiously at his own words. Ral managed a smile of his own as Tomik reeled at his own awkwardness. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that! Aaah, he’d tried to be all smooth like Ral, but it had just come out so cringey and cheesy! Ral gave a watery chuckle as he sat up a little straighter and pressed a kiss to each of Tomik’s reddening cheeks.

“I think I might have swapped it with mine,” he commented, “Do you want it back?”

“N-No,” Tomik replied, before realising how pushy he sounded, “I-I mean unless you want it back. If you don’t want to be-“

Ral cut him off with a chaste kiss to the lips.

“I know you’ll take good care of it.”

Tomik could barely believe the situation he was in. Ral was back. Their plan had worked! He was a free man and they could see each other again. Despite it being less than twenty-four hours, his absence had felt it had gone on for an age. Ral was here! Ral was back! He was falling in love all over again.

“So what to do you want to do?” he asked, between kisses, “Your first action as a free man.”

“I think I’m already doing it,” Ral replied, “I can’t think of a better first action than this.” One of his fingers traced the little bruises he’d left on Tomik’s throat. Tomik could feel the heat rise to his face but wasn’t sure he had the nerve for this right now. Not after he’d so thoroughly embarrassed himself.

“I-I was kind of thinking about breakfast,” he said, “But I-I like this too. I just thought you might be hungry after such a long night.”

Ral sat up a little straighter at the thought of food.

“Am-am I dressed for breakfast?” he asked. Tomik took in the tattered remains of what had once been shirt and trousers. He couldn’t help but notice, through a rip down the side, that Ral wasn’t any underwear. He hastily looked away before Ral could accuse him of being perverse.

“W-We can eat in my rooms,” he said, “And I’ll have someone bring you a change of clothes.”

He got to his feet and offered Ral his hand.

“Come, let me show you around.”

\----

Ral had already realised that he hadn’t gone to Heaven, but this was pretty damn near close. He sat on a low window-seat, beside Tomik, accompanied by two staggeringly large portions of pancakes on gilt white plates. The sun was high in the sky behind them, filtering through the stained glass, leaving them to bask in its pinky-gold glow. He was dressed simply, with promises of a visit to the royal tailor later. Yet he was already blown away by what he’d been given. The white silk shirt, with lacy sleeves was incredibly soft against his bruised skin and the navy-blue trousers fit him almost-perfectly. He was safe, he was warm, he had a gorgeous armful of Angel beside him, and more pancakes than he could possible eat in one sitting. Considering how horribly this day had started, he was on cloud nine.

“Say _aah_.”

He blinked as he was presented with a fork full of pancake. Instead of obliging, he stuck his head forward and took the bite straight into his mouth.

“No fair,” Tomik huffed. He grinned, spearing a forkful of his own.

“I’m sorry we can’t all be gorgeous princes who do wicked things when we eat,” he replied, “That strawberry, dear gods.”

Tomik smiled and dipped his fork in the jug full of syrup. Raising the now sticking implement to his mouth, Ral caught a glimpse of pink tongue, before he shielded his eyes as if dazzled by the sight.

“Please, we’ve got all this food. You’re going to distract me and it’ll go cold.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Tomik. He was no doubt still doing sinful things to that fork. Ral dared glance through his fingertips and hastily had to stuff his mouth full of pancake before any particular noises came out.

“I mean that,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Oh alright,” Tomik huffed in false annoyance before starting to eat his pancakes like a normal human being again. Ral wasn’t sure his heart could take any more surprises today but other parts of his anatomy were reminding him that he’d definitely left them both incredibly frustrated last night. He was willing to bet that Tomik hadn’t done anything about it since, judging by that sudden move.

Ral finished off all his pancakes, and a few of Tomik’s, who pretended he didn’t notice this breakfast thievery. After a small rest, necessary after such a large amount of food, Tomik showed him round the most occupied wings of the castle.

“We don’t really use most of it, unless we have guests,” he said, “But this side, we have the library, and we can go out into the gardens!”

The tour was a long one, made even longer by the fact that Tomik seemed incapable of not saying something adorable every ten minutes. He’d then make himself very awkward, and Ral would feel compelled to kiss him until he stopped worrying about whether he’d ruined everything. Fortunately, the palace was full of subtle alcoves, convenient benches and plenty of little side rooms to duck inside whenever the need got the better of him. It was in one such room, whilst Ral was very content to cuddle that embarrassment away, that a slight shock presented itself before him. 

“Tomik?” came a female voice down the hall, “Tomik dear, where are you? The servants say your boyfriend has arrived.”

At the sound of her, Tomik made a small squeak, hastily getting out of his lap. Ral looked through the low stone arch that led into this room, but saw no one. The voice was close, but where was she?

“Ah there you both are!”

Ral yelped, his ass smarting as it landed solidly on the marble floor. A ghost. An utterly real, human-sized, human-shaped ghost had just glided through the wall right next to him. She looked down at him, chuckling slightly as he sprawled inelegantly on the floor. Tomik hastened to his side to help him up.

“Ral, this is my Mother. Mother, this is Ral Zarek.”

Ral stared at her. Tomik’s mother was a ghost? The Queen of this entire kingdom was a _ghost_? He opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing:

“An honour to meet you Your Majesty.”

She smiled at him, a merry light in her slightly translucent gaze. She was a tall woman in an imperious gown, completely with high circular collar, emblazoned with the image of a sun. She looked like she was in her mid to late thirties, meaning Tomik must have been very young when she’d died. Yet somehow, she was still here. Tomik had a ghost mum. Of course! Like he couldn’t get anymore extraordinary!

“Look at you,” she cooed, “My, my, you’ve found a handsome one haven’t you Tomik.”

Tomik nodded meekly, fidgeting with his sleeves. Ral tried to get closer to him but he wasn’t sure whether stepping away from the Queen was polite. She addressed Ral again.

“Thank you so much for making my dear Tomik’s birthday such a special one. He’s such a shy little boy, we thought it was a miracle when he came out of his shell like that. He’s usually more for books rather than people, but-“

“Mother,” Tomik whined, but she ignored him.

But you certainly lit a fire in his heart that’s for sure. You shocked quite a few nobles, but what’s a ball without a little scandal?”

“Yes, err, sorry about that,” Ral murmured, “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just got, very involved with, err…”

She laughed again, waving a hand as if to dismiss his need for an apology.

“There’s no need to be sorry dear. I’m sure once he’s caused enough scenes of his own, Tomik will stop reading those god-awful romantic novels. It’s all for the better I can assure you.”

A bell rang somewhere in the distance, followed by a cacophony of smaller bells.

“Oh, well, that’s my next meeting,” she said, “I’m so glad I managed to find you both. See you at dinner!”

And with that, she drifted off back through the wall. 

Ral stood there for a moment, before turning ever so slowly towards Tomik. The prince had his hands stuck in the sleeves of his robes and was looking a little sheepish.

“You probably have questions?” he mumbled.

Ral had so many questions. Enough questions to last them all the way up to dinner where he realised that he’d forgotten to ask whether both of Tomik’s parents were ghosts, or just his mother. It turned out, both. Ral spent half of the meal being awed at the food and the other half answering questions from Tomik’s father. The King, like his wife, didn’t seem to want to scare him away but was very insistent on knowing if he was Tomik’s intellectual equal. Whilst he knew nothing about law, his engineering knowledge was certainly enough to impress the King. It was only then that he learned about the deal the family had made with Niv Mizzet. The fact that the dragon had ulterior motives to helping him surprised nobody. The fact that Niv Mizzet wanted him to study in Nivix was shocking. The fact that the dragon believed him to be a powerful mage, almost drove him out of his seat.

“You made the rainstorm,” said Tomik, during dessert, “We had weather mages monitoring everything, but your magic was too strong, you made it pour.”

“I just wanted it to rain because I was sad,” Ral replied, “I didn’t mean to actually make it rain on everyone.”

“It was funny,” the Queen commented, “All those ladies pulling hissy fits over their make-up. It certainly lived up what would have been quite a boring ceremony.”

“Well, I’m glad I was able to help,” said Ral. The urge to shove the entire slice of apple pie in his mouth was becoming overwhelming and he had to fight it for the sake of his relationship.

“And the looks on everyone’s faces when you danced,” said the Queen, “Why you’d think they were reading one of your novellas Tomik.”

That was the second time she’d mentioned Tomik’s book collection, and now Ral was curious. As soon as they were back safely in his rooms, he brought it up.

“What are these books your mother keeps mentioning?” he asked, “Why does she think they’re so silly?”

Tomik winced a little before gesturing him over to his bedside.

“It-It’s easier to show you. I learned a lot from these. There wasn’t exactly anywhere else I could go to learn about k-kissing and being scandalous.”

Kissing and being scandalous? Oh, now he was intrigued. He opened the cupboard on the bedside table to reveal about twenty books with dark pink spines. They all bore titles like “Velvet Passion”, “True Love’s First Bliss,” “Loved Twice by the Necromancer” and the seemingly innocent-sounding “The Count’s New Stable Boy.” He took that one out of the shelf as Tomik let out a little squeak of protest.

“You-you don’t have to read them! They’re honestly not very good! My mother was right, they’re just a bit silly and-“

He was getting so red-faced and flustered about it, Ral just had to read the blurb aloud.

**“Thomas ‘Tommy’ Small is a fresh new face in the stables of Ebony Manor. He’s eager to show his new employer how good he is at his job - attending to the Count’s collection of prize-winning racehorses.”**

“Ral, please,” Tomik interrupted, “It’s rude, you know it’s rude, you can put it back now.”

**“Yet when the fair-faced Tommy catches the eye of the handsome and mysterious Count, he finds himself attending to needs far removed from the stables. Unable to resist the Count’s lustful advances, Tommy lavishes in serving his master between the sheets. Yet what will our gorgeous hero do when he realises that far darker secrets than his master’s lust lie beneath Ebony Manor?”**

Ral glanced up at Tomik, who was apple-red and staring at the floor.

“Can’t help but notice the names here,” Ral teased, “Tommy, Tomik, did you like to imagine being-“

“Yes, now please stop teasing me, or-or…” Tomik looked up at him, pouty expression on his face. Ral put the book down and smirked.

“Or what?”

That pout was just begging to be kissed away. Ral accept this duty with all the gusto of one who’d just discovered that their new love was into very erotic literature.

“I’ll-I’ll-“ Tomik let out a little whimper, fisting his hands in Ral’s shirt as he deepened their kiss, displaying a little of that desire he’d barely held back all day.

“I’ll-I’ll abuse my power,” he tried, “I’ll make teasing me an arrestable offence.”

“And what else is going to be illegal once you’ve had your way with the law?” Ral asked, running hands over the smooth silk of Tomik’s robes, feeling him lean in just a little to the touch. The thin white fabric didn’t do much to stifle the sensation, so he couldn’t resist lightly brushing against his thighs, his chest, Tomik’s breath hitching at the caresses against such sensitive areas. 

“Being...Being so attractive that you make it impossible to think,” Tomik replied, “And leaving bruises on other people’s asses because you _had to_ squeeze whilst wearing mechanical gauntlets.”

Ral’s eyes widened and he bit back a laugh.

“Did I? Did I really?”

Tomik nodded, there was a glimmer of something mischievous in his eyes. Ral couldn’t wait to find out what, but there were more important topics at hand.

“Can I see them?” he asked.

“Only if you’re really good to me.” Tomik wrapped his arms round Ral’s shoulders, drawing a little too close to be innocent, despite that sweet blush on his face. Ral couldn’t help but notice his current robes had none of that complicated lacing, just a few buttons and a belt, and all that white fabric would come tumbling down. He grinned playfully, planting a kiss on the tip of Tomik’s nose, before going for his boldest question yet.

“Is deflowering the prince going to be an arrestable offence?”

“Hm,” Tomik replied, mirroring his playful smile, licking his lips as he pressed his body flush against Ral’s, “I don’t think so. Not if the prince wants to be _thoroughly_ deflowered.”

“Like Tommy and the C-mph!“

Tomik swiftly shut him up with a caress of his own, his hand nestled down the front of Ral’s trousers. The time for teasing was certainly over and Ral was more than happy to push his devious little prince back a step, letting him fall back onto the bed with a soft _whumph_. Tomik stared up at him, face flushed, glasses askew, robes cascading about him like a blanket of fresh snow. The sight was so divine that Ral could not keep his hands off a second longer.

If you ask anyone in this fairytale land whether wishes can come true. They will almost certainly tell you yes. If you believe in the power of dreams and wish upon enough stars, then surely all your determination will pay off. Yet sometimes it takes more than a few night time prayers to achieve a dream come true. It takes a little worry, a little pain, a little determination and a whole lot of ingenuity to truly turn a dream into reality. If you asked these two men, they would say that had met by chance, destiny, and perhaps a little due to the interference of an all-knowing dragon.

Needless to say, they lived happily ever after.


End file.
